Bound By Desire (The Acadian Curse) (11 page)

By Rebecca Lyndon

June 1098, outside the walls of Antioch

She came from the water.

Richard of Guildford caught sight of someone
rising from the waves of the Orontes. Gooseflesh rose up along his
arms despite the lingering heat of day. He couldn’t tell through
the dark desert night who disturbed the surface of the river, but
he held up his balled fist, silently signaling the eight men
following behind him to stop. Richard hadn’t kept them alive on
their trek to the Holy Land these past three years by ignoring his
gut instincts.

They were far from the reinforcements of the
siege camp, and, even though Richard believed to his core that his
men were the best there were, none of them would stand a chance
against a large enough ambush.

He pulled his sword from its scabbard as a
lithe form rose above the water, a lone woman that moved with an
unearthly grace. Gossamer silks clung to her body as she floated
toward the bank. Silver moonlight glistened off the curve of her
breasts and the wide swell of her hips. Her dark mound showed
clearly beneath the thin fabric. Richard tightened his grip around
the hilt of his blade even as his cock hardened.

She smiled as she stepped onto the grassy
bank. Hardly the reaction one expected of a seemingly defenseless
woman facing an armed band of warriors. But this was no ordinary
woman. Even if Richard had not seen her gliding across the river,
he still would have sensed it. Her amethyst eyes sparkled with
their own light.

“Put down your weapons.”

Richard heard her voice, clear and loud in
his mind, but her full, red lips had not moved. He was certain of
it.

When Richard shook his head in an exaggerated
manner, commanding his men to stand firm against her, she waved her
hand. The steel tip of his sword was forced to the ground with such
strength that it buried in the cracked earth at his feet. Richard
turned to see that the same unseen force had disarmed them all.

“What are you?” Richard demanded.

The willowy creature slid her gaze
appreciatively down his body as she stepped closer. Her dark
nipples puckered. “I go by many names, but you may call me
Ashira.”

“And I say, we are better off calling you by
your true name,” Richard’s second in command, Rhys, said from
directly behind him. “Demon.”

“Whatever name you choose for me is of little
importance. You should be more interested in what I can do for
you.”

“We want nothing from you she-devil,” Richard
said.

She dragged a slender finger down his chest.
Richard tried to raise his hand to slap her away but found he was
frozen, held fast by invisible bonds.

“Is that so? Your minds, all of them, tell a
different story. Each one of you is a powerful warrior. Together
you are perhaps the most potent fighting force in this war. This
crusade of yours has made brothers of you, but it has also worn you
thin. You are tired,” she said, weaving through the line of men as
her dark magic held them immobile. She stopped in front of each
man, looking deep into his eyes, taking his measure. “Tired of
watching good men cut down. Tired of watching your friends waste
away with disease, their minds devoured by madness. But most of
all, you are tired of waiting to get your due.”

“Lies,” Geoffrey Stark said as she passed
him, but his voice lacked conviction.

But her words were all too true. They had all
started out on this journey with thoughts of securing their places
in heaven, but if the last three years had shown them anything it
was that hell was not some far off realm. The fires of perdition
would pale in comparison to the agonies they had all endured in
this infernal place.

“I can give you all that you desire,” she
said.

“You can end the siege?” Richard asked.

“Of course. But I can give you much more than
that.”

“What else?” he asked.

“Riches. Power. Immortality.”

Richard struggled to free himself from her
spell, but he was hit by a powerful wave of lust as she returned to
him. He imagined those red lips of hers wrapping around the length
of his cock, sucking him dry.

Those same lips curved up in a knowing smile.
“Yes, that as well.”

“And the price you ask for these precious
gifts?”

Her teasing look turned serious. “Surrender
your own release, and instead offer up to me the pleasure of all
the women you touch.”

Give up his orgasm and become an incubus? He
weighed the temptation of nearly limitless strength and wealth
against the cost.

“For all eternity?”

She shook her head. “One day a woman will
return your release to you. On that day you will know that your
service is no longer required.”

“It is the devil’s bargain,” Rhys called out,
but his voice was heavy with the same desire that rushed through
Richard. “We would be empty shells. Nothing more than pleasureless
demons.”

Ashira rubbed her breast with her hand as she
looked up and down Richard’s Welsh friend. “Not pleasureless. You
would still feel the ecstasy of every lick and stroke, but there
will be no release.” She turned and rubbed her ass against
Richards’s groin for emphasis. His cock was close to bursting.
“Just think of the comforts that could be bought with all that
wealth. Enough to fill a hundred lifetimes.”

Richard swallowed hard. He knew some of his
men would be persuaded by this creature’s promises of treasure and
power. He didn’t fault them, but it was the thought of immortality
that swayed Richard to Ashira’s side. He had lost half of his
fighting force since leaving the shores of England, and he would
gladly let heaven damn him if it meant he didn’t have to lose
another friend.

“Spare my men, even any who don’t agree, and
I will accept your deal,” Richard said.

Ashira smiled, and her look changed to one of
pure hunger. She fell to her knees before him. She pulled at his
chausses, freeing his cock. Her tongue snaked out to wet her
lips.

“Then you are mine.” Her mouth descended on
him, taking his full length in a single motion.

Richard groaned as her wet tongue encircled
him. Her cheeks pulled in as she sucked hard on his shaft.

Realizing he was free from her divine
bondage, Richard brutally grasped on to her long fall of golden
hair and held her head still. Her glittering, purple-colored eyes
looked up at him. Their corners lifted. She approved of his show of
control.

He surged again and again into her mouth. He
waited for the telltale sounds of her throat’s resistance, but she
took all of him without complaint. He could feel the power surging
through her body. His heart began to pound to the beat of it. He
thrust in time to the primal rhythm. Her long fingers bit into the
flesh of his hips, holding him as mercilessly as he held her.

He had gone past the usual point of climax,
but she continued to pull the dark pleasure from him.

“Do you swear to serve me?” Her voice was
clear in his mind even though her lips were wrapped tight around
him.

“I swear,” Richard said through gritted
teeth.

White-hot ecstasy overtook him. His release
gushed down her throat. Roaring out into the dark night, he came
his last.

Richard staggered backwards, and away from
the creature he had entered into this damnable pact with. His skin
felt branded by her touch. He opened and closed his fist, marveling
at the feel of unnatural strength flowing into his body.

Then Richard watched as all eight others took
their turn with Ashira.

By Delilah Clare

Lord Dowerdon spoke softly. “There is a
vignette inside the wood for those who tread off the beaten path.
It is quiet there. There is a bench where you may sit unobserved
while you recover your sensibilities.”

“What is the vignette?” she asked
breathlessly, whether from dread or anticipation she could not
quite tell.

“It is a scene of punishment. A woman stands
there alone. Bound. Blindfolded. Waiting.”

They stepped beneath the canopy of oaks,
still in full leaf and rustling lightly in the breeze high up in
their branches. “Waiting for what?”

He brushed aside a withy and led her forward
along a narrow path. “Whatever comes.”

A shiver rippled down Hettie’s spine. “Why is
she punished?”

“I do not know the particulars in this case.
Perhaps she displeased her lord somehow. Though it is possible that
he simply felt her to be in want of greater humility.”

“A man punishes her? Her husband?”

He paused. “It is a vignette. No more.”

“Is she a widow then?”

“I don’t know.”

“But this is something she chose. The woman
being punished?”

“None at Barrowton Hall are ever coerced.
Unless that is what they wish.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s not my place to say. All will become
clear, my lady. Do not fret. Please. I should not have spoken. Ah,
here is the bench we seek.” He led her into a small glade where a
sturdy oaken seat was tucked up against the trunk of a stout tree.
“If you sit here, as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you will be
able to discern the woman of whom I spoke across that blackberry
bramble. The canes will keep any other visitors away from you.
Aside from the lady, who may hear us speaking now, none will know
you are here.”

Hettie quickly disengaged her hand from his
arm and sat. He placed the cup and water jug beside her, then stood
back. “Do you wish for me to stay for a time?”

To watch a bound woman raped by any who
happened upon her? Well, not raped, she supposed, if the lady had
willingly placed herself here. But used. Possibly harshly. Without
knowing who used her. Such a . . . disturbing idea.

Hettie shook her head, then realized he might
not have been able to see her in the dark shadows beneath the oak.
“No, my lord. I believe I need a few minutes alone. Thank you for
showing me here. I am quite sure I can find my way back along the
path when I am ready.”

“You will be completely safe, my lady. In
this you may trust.” He bowed, and then melted into the night.

Hettie closed her eyes, but that did not stop
the parade of images she had seen that night from flashing through
her mind. So she opened them instead, and tried to focus in the
quiet night sounds to calm her. It wasn’t at all cold, fortunately,
especially not in the protection of the wood. On the whole, it was
very quiet and peaceful. When the light wind stirred the high
branches, she could see the stars peeking at her from the heavens.
Crickets chirped, and she heard the soft crackle of mouse feet
racing over fallen leaves.

As her heartbeat slowed and her breath
relaxed, Hettie was uncomfortably aware of how wet she was inside
her drawers. Well, it was no wonder with all she’d seen. And Lord
Dowerdon’s imposing presence had not helped. The combination made
her wish fervently that she weren’t laced so tightly into her stays
as to make it impossible to give herself relief in a quick and
efficient manner. Anthony had liked to watch her touch herself. But
despite Lord Dowerdon’s assurance that she would be left entirely
alone, she could not relax long enough to bring herself to climax.
That would have to wait until later when she was snug in her bed
and in no danger of being discovered by unknown persons tramping
through the woods in search of carnal enticements. She was not
putting herself on the menu of Sin Fair vignettes.

Finally, in a desperate bid to take her
thoughts off her growing need, she glanced over the bramble and saw
at once the woman kneeling on the ground at the base of a thick
pole to which her hands were chained. Her naked skin glowed pale
against the dark foliage of the forest, and she was, as Lord
Dowerdon had said, blindfolded. She sat still as glass, head bowed,
bound hands resting on her thighs. Hettie decided this was pretty
tame stuff compared to what all else she’d seen that night.

As she watched the woman, she wondered what
the night air felt like against her bare breasts. It must be
interesting to be undressed outdoors. Surely at one time, people
would have cavorted naked in the woods instead of being trussed
into stays and layers of heavy clothes. Hettie thought it must be
very freeing to sit naked in the woods. She might not mind
that.

Then she got to wondering what it would feel
like to have chains bind her wrists. Unconsciously, she crossed her
wrists in her lap, mimicking the naked woman’s pose. Did she have
shackles on? It was difficult to tell at the distance of some
thirty feet or so that separated Hettie from the woman. Surely
shackles would bite into tender flesh and rub against delicate
bones. Yet the woman did not look uncomfortable. She appeared
composed. Tranquil even.

Just then a twig snapped beneath a heavy
foot, and both Hettie and the woman she watched straightened their
shoulders. Hettie looked wildly around for the source of the noise,
but the woman kept her head bent submissively. There was tension in
her back though, where there had been none.

A faint and wavering light moved toward the
woman from opposite Hettie’s hiding place. A few heartbeats later a
torch, held aloft, threw leaping shadows into the clearing where
the woman was chained. The sudden light blinded Hettie, but when
her eyes adjusted, she saw it was borne by a heavy-set bearded man.
He came to a sudden halt when he caught sight of the helpless
captive.

Without a word, he rammed the torch into the
ground so that it illuminated the woman. From the ground, he raised
two more unlit torches, touched them to the first, and staked them
where they threw light on her from three sides. Then he circled her
slowly, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight, his gaze hungry. He
stopped in front of her, looking her up and down, and then very
slowly pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time.